


What Are Friends For?

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Crutchie is a badass, Hurt/Comfort, and a good friend, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Crutchie protects those he cares about, even if it means getting himself in trouble in the process.-or-Les tries to take on the Delanceys by himself and Crutchie is a little more badass than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

It was just before dinner, and Crutchie was hawking his last paper so he could get some dinner before heading back to the lodging house, when he heard the telltale signs of a struggle coming from a nearby alley. The scuffle of boots on cobblestones, the sound of a body hitting the side of the brick building, a small voice rapidly rising in pitch and volume.

“…gets here, he’s gonna do something about you! I’m not afraid of you…you’re just bullies!”

That was Les. Without a moment’s hesitation, Crutchie limped toward the alley as quickly as he could. Why was Les alone? Where was Davey? Or Jack? Who was-

Then Crutchie turned the corner and had his answer. Les was pinned to the brick wall by one of Morris Delancey’s meaty hands, Oscar standing to the side with a smug grin on his face. But Les didn’t look afraid; actually, Crutchie noted fondly, the kid was glaring at the Delancey brothers with a defiant expression reminiscent of Jack’s.

Morris sneered at Les, poking him harshly in the chest with a thick finger. 

“Listen, ya little punk-”

“Hey!” Crutchie yelled, and suddenly three pairs of eyes were on him, two hard and startled, the third surprised but relieved.

“Crutchie!” Les struggled against Morris’ iron grip, but the older boy just tightened his hold.

“Let ‘im go, Morris,” Crutchie said. “Davey ain’t gonna be too happy to hear that you was messin’ with his little brother.”

“And who’s gonna tell ‘im?” Oscar retorted before his brother could say anything, cracking his knuckles and stalking toward Crutchie. “By the time I’m through wit’cha, you won’t be doin’ a lotta talkin’.”

Crutchie snorted and stood his ground. “You sure came up wit’ that line mighty fast, Oscar. Did’ja just think of it, or do you spend your nights thinkin’ of material so you sound clever?”

That apparently struck a nerve with Oscar, because a second later Crutchie found himself doubled over, gasping from a punch to the gut he had barely seen coming. He heard Les scream something he had to have learned from Race that would have given Davey a heart attack.

“You wanna say somethin’ else smart?” Oscar glared down at Crutchie, who returned the look with just as much ferocity. “Maybe you should go before somethin’ bad happens to ya.”

“Yeah, alright.” Crutchie slowly straightened back up, enjoying Oscar’s momentary confusion, before sweeping his crutch across the bully’s legs. Oscar hit the ground hard and let loose a string of profanities, but a solid thwack! to the side of his head quickly silenced him.

Crutchie didn’t have time to revel in his victory, because suddenly Morris was in front of him, his face contorted into a mask of fury.

“You’re dead.”

The first punch snapped Crutchie’s head to the side, but he stayed on his feet. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, he slammed the end of his crutch into Morris’ gut. But before he could pull back, Morris grabbed the crutch and yanked it out of Crutchie’s hands. Before Crutchie could even blink, Morris gave him a hard shove. 

This time he did fall, and there was nothing he could do to protect himself. Morris raised the crutch above his head, an evil glint in his eyes, and Crutchie braced himself-

And then Morris yelled and stumbled back, and Crutchie could see that Les, the dumb, stupid, idiotic, brave kid, had jumped on Morris’ back and was beating at his head with small, bony fists.

“Get offa me!” Morris grabbed Les’ leg and threw the boy to the ground, and the kid cried out. And Les glared up at Morris even as the older boy reached down to grab him.

And Crutchie knew he had to protect Les if it was the last thing he ever did. 

He kicked out with his good leg as hard as he could, catching Morris in the knee. The bully swore and dropped Les, who scrambled out from under him.

“Les, you gotta run,” Crutchie said. The kid looked uncertain. “Run! Get someone. Go!”

So Les ran, stumbling out of the alley with a few worried glances over his shoulder at Crutchie.

And Crutchie watched him go. And when he looked back, Morris was there again, his brass knuckles grasped tightly in his fists.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jack! Davey!” Les barreled through the front door of the lodging house and into the common area, nearly crashing into Albert, who was coming down the stairs.

“Woah, slow down, shortstop, where’re the fire?” Albert joked, an easy grin on his face. But it quickly slipped when he took in Les’ wide eyes and panicked expression. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I need…Jack and…Davey…” Les tried to explain even as he breathed hard, unable to catch his breath. “Crutchie…Delanceys…trouble!”

“Shit.” Albert put his hands on Les’ shoulders. “Alright, shortstop, you gotta breathe. We’s gonna go get Jack and Davey. They’s upstairs. C’mon.”

Les nodded and followed Albert up the stairs and into the sleeping area, where an assortment of boys were relaxing after a hot day of selling. Jack and Davey were sitting together on a bunk near the back, deep in conversation.

“Jack!” Les yelled. Jack and Davey looked up, and so did just about everyone else in the room, but Les didn’t care. He hurried over to the pair even as Davey stood up, a concerned but angry expression on his face.

“Les! Where did you go all day?” His tone was harsh, and Les shrank back. Davey immediately looked ashamed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But you can’t disappear like that, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey, kid.” Jack knelt down in front of Les. “We was just worried about you. You just gotta tell us where you’re goin’.”

“Okay.”

“Hey, Jackie,” Albert called, making his way over to the three. “Les told me downstairs…or tried to, anyways…somethin’ worryin’ about Crutchie. Shortstop?”

He gestured to Les, and the kid felt himself begin to panic all over again.

“Crutchie’s in trouble!” He blurted, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him again.

“What do you mean?” Race asked from a nearby bunk, where he had been playing a game of Solitaire.

“The Delanceys cornered me when I was comin’ back here. I just wanted to see if I could sell papes by myself. I wasn’t scared or nothin’…but they’re big…”

“Les!” Davey said, shaking his little brother’s shoulder a little. “Focus. Get to the point.”

“Crutchie saved me,” Les said, “but I think Morris got ‘im. Really bad. But he took out Oscar! Whacked him with his crutch! It was cool.”

Jack’s face had gone pale as Les spoke. He stood up from his kneeling position.

“Race, you and Davey gotta come with me. Mush, too.” Jack said, and the three nodded. He looked down at Les. “You can take us to Crutchie, right, kid?”

“Yeah! I know exactly where he is!” Les said. Despite his panic, he was excited to lead this sort of little ‘rescue’ mission.

“C’mon, boys,” Race said, cracking his knuckles. “We got a pair of jackasses to teach a lesson to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Even when Morris finally backed off, roughly wiping his bloodied brass knuckles on Crutchie’s torn shirt, the newsie still managed a weak snort.

“What…hate gettin’ your hands dirty?”

That earned Crutchie a kick to the ribs, and he stifled a groan even as he curled in on himself. Morris smirked.

“You’ve gotten mouthier since the strike,” he said, kneeling down to heft Oscar, who was just waking up and complaining softly, over his shoulder.   
Guess your stay in the Refuge didn’t do ya much good.”

Crutchie stiffened at the mention of that horrible place, and his breathing quickened, pulling painfully on cracked ribs.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill ya for what ya did to Oscar.” Morris said this as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. Crutchie shuddered. “And I’d get movin’ if I was you…the sun’s goin’ down, and the cops’ll arrest you for loiterin’.”

Morris’ cruel laughter echoed through the alley as he left, carrying a still-groggy Oscar.

And then Crutchie was alone.

For a few minutes, he just lay there on the ground, watching the sun set and thinking about what Morris had said.

_He’s right, they’ll arrest me for sure if I’m still here after dark._

_But I can’t move. It hurts. It all hurts._

_I’ve been hurt bad before._

_I gotta move._

_I gotta stay. I told Les to get someone. Someone’ll come._

_What if no one comes?_

Crutchie choked back a sob. He couldn’t cry now. He had to get home.

With shaking hands, Crutchie slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Spots danced before his eyes and his body exploded in pain, but he didn’t stop. He looked around for his crutch, relieved to see it lying just a few feet away. Crutchie wrapped an arm around his aching ribs and used the other to drag himself forward. His good leg pushed against the ground, but his bad one lay limply, and Crutchie was more than a little alarmed that it felt completely numb.

He shoved his rising panic to the back of his mind and forced himself to keep moving, inch by painful inch, until finally his fingers brushed against the worn wood of his crutch.

Crutchie sighed in relief and pulled it closer.

 _Now comes the hard part_.

Using the brick wall as support, Crutchie slowly stood, silently praying that he would be able to stay on his feet; if he fell now, he wasn’t sure he would be able to get up again. He finally made it, shakily standing on one leg and leaning heavily on his crutch, breathing hard.

Crutchie was in so much pain, and all he wanted to do was pass out, but the sun was almost hidden completely behind the tall buildings surrounding him. He had to make it back to the lodging house somehow.

He had made it perhaps two feet when he heard voices in the distance, rapidly approaching the alley.

 _Shit_.

Crutchie fell back into what he hoped looked like a defensive stance despite the fact that he had one arm still wrapped around his ribs, and his free hand was shakily clutching his crutch, and his head was pounding with a vengeance.

The voices were just around the corner, and Crutchie braced himself for the cops, or a gang looking for another victim, or even the return of the Delanceys, Oscar recovered and out for blood.

He didn’t expect Les to come hurrying into the darkening alley, followed by Jack, Davey, Race, and Mush. They all stopped when they saw him.

“Crutchie?” Jack approached him, his expression a mix of horror at his friend’s condition and incredulity that he was even standing up. “Are you okay?”

Crutchie opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The pounding in his head came to a peak, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out into Jack’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

When Jack followed Les around the corner into the alley, Mush, Davey, and Race close behind him, he didn’t even expect to find Crutchie conscious, much less standing (albeit shakily), his stance defensive and face pale but determined. The younger newsie stared at his friends with wide, glazed eyes, clearly surprised to see them.

“Crutchie?” The sun was very low in the sky, and it was hard to make out anything definitive in the shadows of the alley, but Jack could still see too many bruises on his brother’s face, and it worried him. “Are you okay?”

Crutchie opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead he stumbled forward into Jack, who caught him easily.

“Shit, is he dead?” Jack heard Race mumble, as he gathered Crutchie in his arms. The kid was so light, always so light.

“No, you idiot, he ain’t dead.” That was Mush, and Jack turned around in time to see him hit Race in the shoulder with his cap. “Can’t you see ‘im breathin’?”

“Let’s get ‘im back to the lodgin’ house.” Jack started up the street, trying not to jostle Crutchie. Not that he was feeling anything at the moment.

“Jack, ain’t we gonna go after the Delanceys?” Race asked. “They gotta pay for what they did.” Mush murmured in agreement.

“Do you even know where the Delanceys are, Race?” Davey spoke up. “I think the best thing to do right now is get Crutchie back and make sure he’s okay. We can worry about Oscar and Morris in the morning.”

“But-”

“Davey’s right, Race,” Jack interrupted. “We don’t got time to run around lookin’ for those assholes right now. Knowin’ them, they’s probably wit’ some of their gang buddies. If you found ‘em, you’d end up as bad as Crutchie. But we’ll see ‘em bright and early at the gate, I bet.”

Race grinned. “Right. Then we can show what happens when they mess wit’ one of us.”

They walked for a few more minutes before the lodging house finally came into view, dark but for a few windows on the upper levels.

“Davey, can you go make sure there’s a bunk clear?” Jack asked his friend. Davey nodded and jogged ahead, disappearing through the front door.

A few younger newsies hung out in the lit windows, and Jack could make out Elmer and JoJo sitting on the fire escape. When they saw Davey run inside, they stood up and leaned over the railing, watching Jack and the others.

“Did’ja find Crutchie?” Elmer asked. “Is that him? Is he awake?”

“No.”

“Is he okay?”

“…he will be.” Jack didn’t want to worry any of the others, especially when he hadn’t even had a chance yet to see how bad off Crutchie really was. But if he was even conscious…it couldn’t be good.

Mush held the front door open and Jack slipped inside. He could feel the other three on his heels as he carried Crutchie up the stairs and into the bunkroom. It was full of kids, all awake, sitting on bunks or on the floor. A wave of hushed, angry tones swept across the room when they saw Crutchie, still limp in Jack’s arms, and Romeo even let loose a stuttered string of expletives before Specs, who was sitting beside him, smacked him lightly upside the head.

“Jack, over here.” Davey was standing next to an empty bunk near the far wall, and Jack gently lowered Crutchie onto it, mindful of his bad leg. In the better light, he could see that the younger newsie’s face was swollen and bloody. Both eyes were blackened and his nose looked broken. Dark bruises spread across his cheeks and down his neck, disappearing under his torn shirt. Jack suspected there were more across his chest, back, and probably arms and legs, too.

“He’s hurt real bad, isn’t he?” Les whispered. He hadn’t spoken since they found Crutchie in the alley, but now he sidled up to Jack, pressing himself into his side and staring down at Crutchie with wide, tearful eyes. “This is my fault…he was just protectin’ me.”

Jack put an arm around Les’ shoulder, and Davey came up on his younger brother’s other side and took his hand.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, kid,” Jack said. “Crutchie knew what he was doin’. He’s stubborn and stupid…and brave. And from you said, he gave Oscar a good soakin’. He’s gonna be fine.”

Jack glanced at Crutchie’s face, slack in unconsciousness. Almost peaceful. He was going to hurt like hell when he woke up, but he would wake up.

_He’ll be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

It was past midnight, but most of the older newsies were still awake, scattered around the bunkroom. They were all trying to keep busy, but once in a while someone would glance worriedly at the bed near the wall, where Crutchie still lay silently. Jack, with help from Davey and Specs, had cleaned him up as best they could, washing off the blood, binding his ribs with strips of cloth, and finding him a shirt that wasn’t torn, but there was nothing they could do about the deep bruises that covered Crutchie’s body. Those would just have to heal on their own.

Race was sprawled on his stomach on the floor, playing cards with Mush, Blink, Albert, and Elmer. JoJo and Finch sat nearby, watching the game and occasionally commenting on what they thought of everyone’s hands. After a few angry smacks from Mush, they laughed and moved out of reach.

Specs and Davey sat on Specs’ bunk, talking quietly to each other. Les lay curled between them, sleeping with his head on Davey’s lap. Jack sat on a chair near them, but he wasn’t engaged in the conversation. Instead, he was watching Crutchie - the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes moved rapidly underneath their lids. Jack was starting to get worried.

“Hey, Specs.” The newsie in question turned toward Jack.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Shouldn’t Crutchie be awake by now?” 

Specs thought it over and glanced at Davey, who just shrugged.

“It’s only been a couple’a hours, Jack,” he finally replied. “I’se sure he’ll wake up soon.”

“But, Specs,” Race spoke up from across the room. “You remember that kid from Brooklyn a few years back? He got soaked real bad, too-”

“Shut up, Race!” Jack snapped, standing up so fast his chair fell backwards and hit the ground with a loud thud; the noise startled some of the younger newsies awake, and JoJo and Elmer got up to get them back to sleep. “You don’t know nothin’!”

Race flinched, and Specs grabbed Jack’s arm.

“Jack, you gotta calm down. Race didn’t mean anythin’ by it. He’s just tryin’ to help.”

Jack sighed. He looked at Race and started to apologize, but Race cut him off.

“You’se worried, Jack, I get it. So’s the rest of us. I just don’t want Crutchie to end up like that other kid, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know, Race.” Jack sank back into his chair. “He’s gonna be fine. We just gotta keep thinkin’ that.”

Race nodded. Jack turned back to Specs and Davey.

“Hey, Jack?” Davey asked, absentmindedly running his fingers through Les’ hair; the kid had managed to sleep through all the commotion. “What Race said, about that kid from Brooklyn…what happened to him?”

“He was a newsie there, maybe thirteen or fourteen,” Jack replied. “Brooklyn and Queens was havin’ some turf problems, and this kid was new. He crossed over into Queens one day while he was sellin’ and got soaked, like Race said. They left ‘im in an alley right outside Brooklyn and another newsie found ‘im and got ‘im back to the Brooklyn lodgin’ house, but he wouldn’t wake up. He had got hit in the head real hard…and he just never woke up.”

Davey’s face had gone pale, and he glanced at Crutchie as if to make sure he was still breathing. “So…if Crutchie…”

“He’s gonna wake up, Davey.” Jack refused to let any doubt creep in around the hope onto which he was so desperately clinging. “He was awake when we found ‘im, wasn’t he? So he’s already better off than that kid was.”

Davey opened his mouth to say something else, but changed his mind and closed it again. He went back to playing with his little brother’s hair, and Specs leaned over to Jack.

“Crutchie’s tough,” he whispered. “And he’s still breathin’ right, so we don’t haft’a worry ‘bout that. I think he’s gonna be awake by the mornin’.”

Jack nodded. He was about to get up and see if he could join Race’s card game when he heard a soft groan. He turned back just in time to see Crutchie’s eyes open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

Crutchie could feel every ache and pain with alarming intensity. He was confused and disoriented, but he remembered Oscar and Morris, Les, beating Oscar, getting beaten by Morris…then nothing. He didn’t know where he was, only that whatever he was lying on was softer than the ground in the alley where he knew Morris had left him. Oh, God, was he in the Refuge? Had the cops found him while he was unconscious and taken him back to that hellhole?

He could hear soft voices around him. They didn’t sound unkind, but if he was in the Refuge, he had to be ready for anything.

Crutchie forced himself to open his eyes, and when his vision cleared, he was more than a little surprised to see Jack leaning over him, a relieved expression on his face.

“Crutchie!” He exclaimed with a grin. “We knew you’d wake up. Kept tellin’ the others it was just a matter of time.”

“Others…” Crutchie glanced around as much as his pounding head would allow. He almost cried when he saw his friends instead of strangers, all of them scattered around the room and watching him with concern. Race even gave him a little wave, and Crutchie couldn’t help but smile, ignoring the way it pulled painfully at his split lips and the bruises on his face. He was in the lodging house. He was safe.

Crutchie looked back at Jack.

“How long was I out?” He asked. It hurt to talk.

“Since just before sundown.” Jack chuckled. “You was ready to fight us when we found you in that alley, but you passed out. It’s past midnight now.”

“Oh.” Five hours unconscious? It seemed like a lot, but before Crutchie had much time to dwell on it, he was shaken (quite literally) out of his thoughts by Les, who had appeared out of nowhere and latched himself onto Crutchie’s side.

“You’re awake!” Les practically shouted, and Crutchie winced from the loud noise. Les immediately pulled back, looking stricken. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“No, Les, I’se fine, I promise.” Crutchie smiled at the younger newsie to placate him, and Les relaxed. “Just sore, that’s all.”

“You were asleep for a really long time!” Les said. “I fell asleep, too, but Davey promised he would wake me up.”

“I’se glad he did.” Crutchie smiled at Davey, who was standing behind Les with his hands on his little brother’s shoulders. Davey smiled back.

“We were worried about you, Crutchie,” he said.

“Hey, I lived.”

“Yeah, ya did.” There was Jack again. “Why’d ya go after the Delanceys by yerself, Crutch?”

“You must be rubbin’ off on me,” Crutchie quipped. He looked at Davey again. “I couldn’t let ‘em hurt Les.”

“Thank you for protecting him, Crutchie,” Davey said. 

“Yeah,” Les piped up again. “If you hadn’t’a shown up, I would’a never been able to take them by myself. You really got Oscar, too.”

“Ya soaked ‘im good, from what I heard!” Race had materialized on Crutchie’s other side, along with Mush, Blink, and a couple others. “I’ll be surprised if that ass can even make it to the circulation gate in the mornin’ with the soakin’ you gave ‘im.”

“Speakin’ of the circulation gate, it’s time all you bummers actually got to sleep,” Jack said, cuffing Race lightly on the ear. “We got an early mornin’ tomorrow.”

“And we’s gonna be sure to give Morris one hell of a wake-up call.” As he turned to go to his own bunk, Race winked at Crutchie, who grinned.

“You should go back ta sleep, too, Crutchie,” Jack said.

“Your eyes look the same size, and you’s talkin’ fine, so I don’t think you got a concussion,” Specs added.

“C’mon, guys.” Jack nodded to Davey and Les. “We can find ya an extra bunk for the rest of the night.”

Davey headed after Jack, but Les turned and ran back to Crutchie, hugging him again, more gently this time.

“Thanks again, Crutchie,” he whispered. “You saved me.”

“Hey, kid,” Crutchie took Les’ hand and looked the younger newsie in the eyes. “I will always protect you.”

“You will?”

“Definitely.” Crutchie gave him a grin. “After all, what are friends for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

When Crutchie woke up again, he felt less confused and more alert, though his head still hurt and the rest of his body ached with the slightest movement. It was still dark outside, but there was a flurry of activity in the bunkroom as newsies ran back and forth, getting each other out of bed and pushing in and out of the bathroom, each boy fighting for a spot. Crutchie was content to lie on his bunk and watch the others get ready to leave. 

“Hey, Crutch.” Jack appeared in his line of sight, grinning. “I’se glad you’se awake again. And even a little better lookin’ than last night!”

“I’se always good lookin’,” Crutchie quipped. His voice was hoarse and rough, but it didn’t hurt so much to talk anymore. “I wish I could come out sellin’ today, but I don’t think I’d make it ta the door.”

“You should stay in bed, Crutchie.” There was Davey, appearing a little more rumpled than usual from sleeping in his clothes. Les was next to him, and the kid bounded over to Crutchie and gave him another hug like he had the night before.

“Davey says we can come back here during lunch time and stay with you!” He said excitedly. “We can bring you food, too.”

“If you’re not asleep,” Davey added. Crutchie nodded.

“It’ll be nice to have company,” he said, then turned to Jack. “Good luck sellin’, Jacky.”

“Thanks, Crutch.”

“Hey, we goin’ or what?” Race was suddenly next to the bed, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. “We got some jackass brothers to find before we start sellin’.”

“Yeah,” Mush said. He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s show ‘em what happens when they mess with our family.”

“Alright, c’mon.” Jack herded the others to the door. He glanced back at Crutchie. “We’s gonna take care of the Delanceys. Or…at least Morris. You prob’ly put Oscar outta commission for awhile.”

Crutchie grinned. “Good luck.”

And then everyone was gone, their whoops and hollers echoing in the streets below.

* * *

Sure enough, Jack noted with a grin, Oscar wasn’t at the circulation gate. Instead, it was just Morris and Wiesel, the latter noting the arrival of the newsies with his usual disinterest, the former looking -if Jack wasn’t mistaken- almost afraid.

“Line up, boys,” Wiesel called. They did, and as Morris handed them their papers, he was greeted by a variety of glares, insults, and thinly-veiled threats.

Soon they all had their papers, and Wiesel left with the change-box, telling Morris to haul the extra papers back inside.

“Hiya, Morris,” Jack said, approaching the desk, and the older boy looked at him with a scared expression that he was desperately trying to hide under a smug smirk.

“How’s your friend, Kelly? Sure hope the cops didn’t pick ‘im up.”

“Actually, he’s home,” Jack replied. “Prob’ly better off than Oscar. Where is he, anyway? Still cryin’ about the soakin’ Crutchie gave ‘im?”

“You-” Morris cut off what was probably the beginning of an angry tirade when he saw that the other newsies had gathered around the two. Race grinned.

“What, Morris, you scared?”

Morris only glared at him. “Get outta here, the lot of ya, before I-”

“Before ya do what?” Jack interrupted. “Ain’t no one here. ‘Sides, we can’t just let ya leave without a little somethin’ for the road. We wanted to give it to ya last night, but we couldn’t find ya.”

“Yeah,” the other newsies chorused. Morris looked very afraid now, and Jack grabbed his collar in one hand before he could even think about running. Jack raised his fist and winked at Morris.

“This is for Crutchie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: https://poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow.tumblr.com/


End file.
